Lost in Translation: A Navy Linguist’s Wild Ride Through War Zones and Wordplay

Not an Extreme claim to make, but being a linguist is one of the best jobs to have in the military. Being able to communicate in a foreign language opens many doors, both professionally and socially. Most cultures (France is an exception) appreciate visitors’ efforts to converse in their local language, and yes, it can be fun as well as occasionally embarrassing. While there are many language-related MOSs/NECs, I started my journey as a Cryptologic Technician.

In 1987, in South Carolina, I took the Armed Services Vocational Aptitude Battery (ASVAB). I achieved a high score and was asked to take the Defense Language Aptitude Battery (DLAB). For those interested, there is a study guide for the DLAB at www.robins.af.mil. We did not have a study guide back then, and few, if any, recruiters knew much about it. It is an odd exam, and the hardest part is staying awake for the two hours. Having a solid knowledge and practical application of English is essential. I am talking about grammar use versus vocabulary. They won’t ask questions like, Why is a fat chance the same as a slim chance? Why is it a pair of panties, but just one bra? (Thanks, Gallagher.) I just found out on Friday that a “butt dial” and a “booty call” are NOT the same thing. That certainly explains the restraining order. It is grammar-centric. Following Basic Training in San Diego, it was off to Monterey, CA, and the Defense Language Institute/Foreign Language Center (DLI/FLC).

The Navy invested significantly in my Arabic education. Basic course (one year) and Intermediate (one year) at DLI. Libyan dialect at Brigham Young University (BYU) during ski season, Egyptian dialect at the Foreign Language Training Center Europe (FLTCE) in Munich, Germany, during Oktoberfest, Levantine Dialect at the University of Texas, and an amazing experience in Amman at the University of Jordan. Despite this incredible investment, the opportunity for the occasional screw up can always drop in unannounced.

One example: 1999 Egypt, Operation Brightstar. The Special Operations portion that involved maritime training with the Egyptian Special Operators was in Abu Qir (pronounced Abu Ear as the Egyptian dialect doesn’t pronounce the “Q”), a beautiful area near Alexandria. I’m with SEAL Team 2 Charlie platoon. Training is going well, and one evening our OIC calls me over.

“Pete, can you get me a taxi for the morning? I need to be at the Naval Academy in the morning for a speech and lecture.”

“Aye, sir; need me to go along?”

He said translators would be there for him.

I spoke with several drivers that we had been working with and made an appointment for 0730 at the base front gate; direct to the Naval Academy. The driver showed up on time (shocking for Egypt) and I’m thinking “that went well.”

To the contrary. In the U.S., the Academies are for Officer candidates while Basic training is for enlisted. In Egypt, the Academy is for enlisted, and the Naval College is for officer candidates. So, after returning from a 6 plus hour ride to south of Cairo instead of a 15-minute jaunt around the corner, I was on the short end of a serious conversation about my linguist skill. More than words, understanding culture, geography, and local customs to name a few are a necessary part of any accurate translations.

In 2000, we’re back at the same location for Operation Eagle Response. We brought the SDV (SEAL/Swimmer Delivery Vehicle) as the Egyptians (El Sa’ka) were also beginning to train with SDV’s. I was speaking with the Egyptian training officer about the screens used for the vehicles. I couldn’t figure out why a mini sub would have screens, but using a dictionary, finger pointing, and crude sketching, I realized he meant “filters.” A tragedy averted, we had a successful deployment culminating in a week’s stay in Cairo.

In 2005 I was attached to SEAL Team 4 Delta platoon. We were divided into two-halves for the first 3 months of the deployment to Iraq. I was assigned to the Personal Security Detachment (PSD) to President Jalal Talabani. Our goal was not to only protect the President, but to assess and train the Kurdish personnel. President (he also liked to be called “Uncle”) Talibani’s residence was a mansion in the Red Zone, so we maintained are due diligence. My commander had directed me not to let the locals know that I spoke Arabic and to listen for any potential interior threats. The Kurds were total professionals and excellent hosts. The President would have us at his table every Thursday for lunch. One Thursday (Roasted turkey was the main course) the server, of course going to M’am Jalal first asked in Arabic “which part of the Turkey would he like sliced?” The President answered “All of the South!” I was the only one to laugh at the joke and he gave me a questioning look as I just blew that cover. Fortunately, it became a non-issue, but to tell the story of myself, the President, an exotic dancer from Pasadena, and a helo full of vodka from Jordan, I would need several waivers! While I often laugh at these anecdotes while reminiscing on my naval career, there were many successes where language training made a significant if not life saving contribution.

Late March 2003. We’re outside Sadr City, Iraq. Playing civil engineer by day, engaging combatants at night. We were having difficulty identifying who’s who on the battlefield as local factions were battling each other with our team stuck in the middle. We had commandeered a small compound which provided some security. The next morning, a religious man came to the front area. I met him and he identified himself as the local Imam. His high-level Arabic corroborated his position, and he asked what he could do. I asked him to announce during the evening prayer time, a curfew of all locals. This would help us identify true adversaries and protect civilians. He agreed then added, “There is an American female soldier being held in a hospital near Nasiriyah.” I thought to myself “that’s 4-5 hours away, how would he know?” I didn’t think anymore about it, spoke with Smitty our platoon chief then our radio operator forwarded the intel. That night, following the evening prayer and subsequent curfew, it was quiet as a mouse. The day after next went to hell, yet with the help of Marine LAV’s – a wonderfully indiscriminate armored vehicle, we were successful in eliminating several caches and headed back to Baghdad. Upon arrival there, the Det Master Chief came over and said “we got her. My old squad was part of the rescue.” I’m not sure when I put it together, but the female soldier was Jessica Lynch. I’m less sure if that one communication provided an assist, but I like to think so. More than words, luck can never be understated.

Take the DLPT. Whether you’re active duty, reservist, or considering joining any of the services, take the exam. If you don’t score high enough, take it again. It’s more than just a tour in Monterey, special pay, college credits, and career options, the opportunity to learn a new language can bring experiences that will always be remembered and cherished.